Winter Is Coming
by chezchuckles
Summary: A Beth Companion by Sandiane Carter and chezchuckles.


**Winter Is Coming: A Beth Companion**

* * *

**co-authored **by** Sandiane Carter **and** chezchuckles**

* * *

She's a little breathless; she doesn't mind admitting.

Doesn't help that Castle's hand around hers is damp, that he's vibrating with excitement, that his knee jitters in the cab. Kate gives him a sidelong look, and he's grinning so wide and deep that it makes her heart flip over.

If he's this bad just going to see Beth and Alex, what's he going to do when it's her turn?

Their turn.

She squeezes his hand harder and he must take it as a warning, because he stops bouncing and gives her a repentant look. Kate shakes her head at him and leans in, presses her lips to his jaw.

He's reaching for her when the cab stops, and instead of the kiss they were about to share, it's twin looks of anticipation.

"Come on," she murmurs, and still - still - she's a little breathless.

* * *

Beckett is certain that if Alex had his way, the three of them would be at a hospital. But they're not. Beth was insistent, and like usual, she got her way.

The baby was born at home with the midwife.

Kate stands at her old front door and knocks, Castle still lively and thrumming at her back. He hasn't said a word since they got the news and caught the first taxi, but she knows there are all kinds of words building up in him. She'll be showered with them the moment they're alone, all the deeper and more tender ones, even though he'll probably go on for a while with Alex here too.

The door opens in a rush to Alex, red-faced and stammering and looking a complete mess; he pulls them in with crushing hugs, his joy spilling out in laughter and cracked sentences.

"Here, come on in, let me - yeah, thank you guys. I know you want to see her - them - both of them-"

They're led to the master bedroom just off the living room; Castle's got a death grip on her hand again and she can't believe, can_not_ believe, that her sister got here first.

"It was a surprise, I know I wasn't really prepared for this, but I really thought it would be - I don't know. Like it is in the books? It's not."

Castle is grinning so widely and clapping Alex on the back because _he knows_, and somehow it strikes Kate as so very unfair that out of everyone, she's the only one who doesn't.

But soon.

She'll know soon.

"She woke me up and I just - I guess I was still so deep asleep - and then she was telling me to call the midwife, and I fell out of bed," Alex goes on, and that's when Kate finally notices the faint bruise on his cheek.

"That's a relief," Castle laughs. "But a better story? Beth punched you out during the worst of her contractions."

"That is _not_ a better story," a voice calls out.

Alex pushes open the door to the bedroom and Kate stops in her tracks in the doorway, filled up with the sight of her baby sister holding her own baby.

Kate presses her hands to her chest, keeping it all in, and behind her, Castle lays his hands on her shoulders and nudges her inside. She comes with halting feet, then pushes to the bed and embraces her sister.

Beth laughs from her arms and kisses her. "Look at her, Katie. Oh, look at her."

Kate swipes at her eyes and pulls back, watches the little face be revealed by the slow unfolding of the soft, polka dot blanket.

"Oh, how beautiful," she breathes out, reaching a finger to smooth down the baby's scrunched up nose.

Castle is at her side now, sitting on the bed with her and his hands still on her shoulders like he can't quite let go yet.

"You wanna hold her?" Beth asks, shifting already to put the baby in Kate's arms.

She receives the little thing with a choked breath, stares down at the baby beginning to squirm awake. Her fists are tight up near her face, and one set of five perfect fingers unfurls.

"Oh, wow," Castle says, and he reaches past her to take that little hand. Just his thumb is all the baby can grasp, and then the girl's eyes are opening. Still that hours-old newborn darkness, her gaze unfocused.

"What's her name?" Kate asks, still caught in the wonder, not even lifting her head to look at her sister.

"We've named her Sansa," Beth speaks up.

Castle startles behind her, and he turns on the bed to Alex. Kate, the spell finally broken by that news, looks up as well. "What?" she asks, incredulous. "You didn't."

Castle is miming something to Alex with wide eyes, and Beth rolls hers. "I already know, Rick. It's from _Game of Thrones_. I don't care; it's a beautiful name."

Kate laughs again at Beth, then turns to see the men high-fiving. Castle is being such an idiot. "Awesome. That is _so awesome._ Your wife is awesome."

Kate raises an eyebrow, but Beth laughs hard and leans back against the headboard. "It may be from that stupid tv show you all like-"

"It is _not_ stupid," Alex gasps.

"-but I don't care. I'm pretending like it's not. Isn't it beautiful? Sansa. I love how it sounds."

"But isn't she the princess?" Kate wrinkles her nose at the baby, and _Sansa_ unfurls her other fist. "The one who marries that punk boy-king? I don't like him." Or _her_, but she doesn't say that.

"How would I know?" Beth shoots back, her eyes laughing. "A princess sounds good to me." She looks tired but so very happy. She looks like she's aching to take her daughter back, but Kate keeps her, selfish with the warm weight and the stirring little thing.

"Even if she is a princess, what a beautiful name for such a beautiful little girl."

Castle groans. "Come on. How many episodes have I made you watch? Sansa is a _good_ name."

"Too many episodes," she says cheerfully, grinning down at baby Sansa. "It doesn't matter now, because she's the princess now. Aren't you, honey?"

Her eyes are so deep, her little face this smooth, round moon, dark hair brushing her head. Sansa looks like Alex. Kate strokes her finger over the soft spot, down around to Sansa's cute face, watches the girl squirm and yawn.

"Can I hold her?" Castle asks over her shoulder.

Kate sighs and lets the little girl go, surprised at how smooth the hand-off is, how easy and natural it feels, sharing the baby.

* * *

They stay for hours before they finally, reluctantly leave. The moment they're back in a cab, heading for home, she senses all his words are brimming up in him. And it's not about the magic of holding that newborn, or how it will be their turn soon, or even how he felt when Alexis was born.

No.

It's about the stupid show.

"Kate," Castle says eagerly, turning to her. "Can we-?"

"No," Kate laughs, shaking her head. "We are not naming our child after a tv show. I'm not awesome like Beth."

"Oh, come on. We could even keep it in the Stark family and go with Bran or Robb."

"No," she says, shaking her head. But _Bran_, oh there's something striking about that name. Bran?

"You're thinking about it," he gasps.

"No," she yelps, turning to him even as he strokes his hand over her stomach, makes the baby wake and respond. "No. I am not. And isn't Bran paralyzed? That's a terrible inheritance."

"Yeah, but Sansa is a spineless and kind of spiteful girl, and yet our Sansa wipes that right out of your head, doesn't she?"

"Yes, but no," she says firmly. Still she laces her fingers over his on her belly and they sit in silence in the cab, feeling the baby move and stretch and kick. Bran?

Baby boy was pretty quiet while they were at Beth and Alex's place, like he was caught up in the magic as well. Or waiting to be the center of their attention once more.

Castle's fingers press back against an elbow; she feels that strange flutter against her skin, from the inside, such a weird and amazing thing, their son moving.

Castle leans over and kisses the corner of her mouth, squeezing their joined hands together.

"I know you're thinking about it. Bran."

_Bran_, she kens to him, the baby inside her.

A foot kicks out against their hands.

She finds herself thinking about it.

* * *

Castle slides the key into the lock and pushes the door open, stepping into the loft with a sigh of relief. The meeting at Black Pawn went on for hours, hours of stupid lawyer disputes that he didn't give a damn about but still had to listen to; he tried to get away once, gesturing towards his phone and mouthing the words _family emergency_ to Gina, but she leveled such a fierce, threatening glare at him that he instantly dropped back into his chair.

It's rather unfortunate, he thinks distractedly as he shrugs off his coat, that Gina knows him so well.

"I'm home," he calls, flipping the lights on in the living room. It's dark outside, thick clouds packed together in an ominous way; he's surprised Kate didn't turn the lights on earlier. Unless she's not here?

"Kate?" He heads for their bedroom, his heart sinking. They texted back and forth while he was stuck in that horrible meeting; the thought of seeing her - seeing _them_ - is the only thing that sustained him through his miserable afternoon, but he didn't ask where she was and she didn't reply to his last-

Oh.

He pauses at the door, arrested by the sight before him. An irrepressible grin stretches his lips; he cocks his head, finds himself melting. Melted. A puddle on the floor.

Beckett is lying across their bed, fast asleep, curled up on her side. Her body makes a parenthesis around her distended, seven-month-pregnant belly; one of her hands rests protectively over their unborn baby and her hair falls messily down her back, a wild tangle of curls that he instantly wants to run his fingers through.

She didn't mean to fall asleep, if the abandoned book and phone at her side are any indication. Castle moves stealthily closer, his eyes sliding curiously over the thick paperback, and he lets out a small gasp when he sees the title.

_A Storm of Swords?_

Kate grunts, shifting ever so slightly, but even her adorable waking noises can't distract him from the fact that she's reading the _Game of Thrones_ books. His pregnant wife is reading the _Game of Thrones_ books.

They are so calling their son Bran.

"Hmmcastle," he hears Kate mumble, and he turns his gaze back to her in time to see her thick lashes part, revealing her deep, hazy eyes.

He sits down as fast as he can without jostling the bed too much, rests his weight on his elbow as he leans over her. There's awareness unfurling on Kate's face, pleasure too, and when he presses his lips to hers he can taste her smile, the quiet hum in her throat. "Hey," he murmurs against her mouth, and there's the slow curl of her arm around his neck, the confident stroke of her tongue at his lips.

He lets out a small, muffled moan and opens up to her, relinquishing all control; arousal tumbles over him in startling waves, a bright flare that wipes out everything else. He wants her; he wants to take his time with her and make her come over and over, wants that strangled sob she gives when he presses his tongue to her sensitized breasts-

Kate gasps and breaks away from him, her eyes wide, a hand pressed to her belly - to their child. "Are you-" he starts, but she's already shaking her head and laughing in a kind of breathless, bashful way that is most un-Beckett-like. She takes his hand and guides it to her navel, where baby boy-

Wow. The kid's kicking pretty hard.

"Does it... hurt?" he asks nervously, looking back at her face.

Kate beams at him. It's - wow, she's gorgeous. The tenderness pouring out of her eyes is just - it's like a punch in the gut, leaves him breathless. "No," she says. "Just feels funny. I guess he, um - he must've felt me getting excited and he got excited too."

She's snatched her bottom lip between her teeth, still laughing a little, and he knows he's staring at her but he just can't help himself.

How did he get here? How did he get this beautiful, fierce, radiant woman to say yes to him, to carry his child? He opens his mouth to say something, anything, there must be words somewhere that will accurately convey his awe, his ever-deepening love - but right when he's about to speak something sharp digs into his thigh, makes him look down instead.

Oh, right. The book.

The _Storm of Swords _book.

"You're reading _Game of Thrones_," he says, unable to keep his delight out of his voice. Even in the semi-dark he can tell she's rolling her eyes at him.

"Don't get your hopes up," she warns, but their hands are still tangled together over the supple skin of her belly, the faint outline of a tiny foot still present under his palm, and seriously? His hopes went through the roof a long time ago. "I'm only reading because I'm curious where Sansa's name came from."

He grins. "Oh? I thought it didn't matter who Sansa was in the book, that our niece made it a completely new name." _Our niece_. What a cool thing to say. He feels an unexpected surge of gratitude for Beth, for the fact that she's in their lives at all, not just a sister to Kate but to him too - even to his daughter.

Beckett shrugs. "I still stand by that. But you know me. I like knowing things."

"And you're on desk duty at the precinct and bored out of your mind."

She snorts softly. "Well, that too."

He watches her for a second, thinking, and then reaches for the book. He snags it between two fingers and holds it up with a smirk. "Still. Wanna tell me how you reached the third book when I never even saw you reading the first two? Seems to me, Beckett, like you've been holding out on me."

"Only because I knew how you'd react. I knew you'd be a child about it."

"A child? Me?" he gasps in mock outrage, but she doesn't give him a chance to say more.

"And I was right. I don't want you starting to call our baby Bran just because I'm reading some stupid book, Castle. I-"

But he's clutched his heart and gulped again, dramatically enough to make her pause this time. "Stupid?" he whispers. "_Stupid?_"

"Fine, not stupid," she says in that annoyed eye-roll voice. "You know what I meant. I'm in the middle of book three; obviously I'm enjoying them. And by the way, I think you're wrong about Sansa. There's a lot more to her character than what you-"

He doesn't hear the rest; he's covered his ears at once and is speaking loudly to drown out her voice. "I don't wanna know, I don't wanna know, I don't wanna be spoiled. Don't tell me what happens."

Kate looks at him disbelievingly. He lowers his hands cautiously when he sees that her lips aren't moving.

"Oh, come on," she says flatly. "_Surely_ you've read the books."

He stares back at her. "Why would I do that?"

She seems torn between the urge to laugh and to smack him over the head. "You're always going on and on about that tv show, saying you're their biggest fan and trying to rope me into going to that cosplay thing-"

"Oh, that would be so _awesome._" He'd almost forgotten about that, but- "You could be Shae, the exotic prostitute... Well, no," he hastens to add when he sees the look on Kate's face, "that'd never work out because I doubt I could pose as Tyrion, but hey - you could dye your hair blonde and be Cersei. I'm sure you'd be great; you already have that cold scary face that you use with suspects, and I'd get to be Jaime and wear a white cloak - ohh, yeah," he says, lost in the glorious vision. "Yeah, I'd look great in one of those. Only problem's the hand, but I suppose if we said our timeline was season 2-"

"_Castle_." Kate's sharp tone punctures his beautiful daydream and he comes back to earth, meeting his wife's dark, determined eyes. "Let me make one thing clear, once and for all," she says quietly.

"You're not coming to a _Game of Thrones_ convention with me, I know." He can't help but sound a little mournful.

"No, not that. Well," she amends quickly, probably seeing the burst of hope in his eyes, "it's highly unlikely that I'd come to one of those anyway, but in the event that I did? I will never - ever - dye my hair blonde to look like the bitchy ice queen who's responsible for Ned Stark's death. You hear me?"

He grins foolishly, more in love with her than ever. "So hot, the way you talk about it."

The shadows in the room have stretched ever deeper and longer, the night taking over the already stormy sky, but even in the dim light Castle thinks that maybe, maybe he's managed the feat of making Kate Beckett blush.

They look at each other for a moment, the silence warm and comfortable between them, and finally Kate shakes her head. "I can't believe you haven't read the books," she says, amusement filtering through her words now.

"I love the show," he says like it explains it all - and to him it does. "Why would I ruin it for myself? Sure, it sucks to wait for next season, but it's part of it too - the anticipation, the not knowing. If I turned on my TV next April already knowing what's going to happen to the characters..." He shrugs. "I don't know that I'd watch the show at all, actually. Takes all the interest out of it."

Kate looks for a second like she's going to argue. But she asks instead, "How come you have the books, then? I didn't buy them, Castle. Found them right here on your shelves."

"Oh, that's Alexis. She bought the whole series after I made her watch the first season with me." And then she kept trying to talk to him about the stuff that was different in the books; he spent a whole week speaking very loudly with his hands clamped over his ears.

"I see." Kate's smiling at him like he just said that out loud.

"I suppose," he says slowly, as if thinking, "I wouldn't mind so much if you read them to me. The first ones, you know, the ones that have already been adapted. I mean, there's got to be pretty good sex scenes in there, right? Because the show-"

"Castle." She's laughing at him openly now, her thumb stroking the back of his hand, and he brushes his fingertips to her round belly, suddenly hopeful.

"So, Bran-?"

"Drop it," she murmurs, her mouth warm against his, and he does.

For now.

* * *

"She's adorable," Kate sighs, giving back baby Sansa to her mother. Beth cradles her a moment, her cuddling like a kiss, and then she lowers the baby into the carrier and straps her in.

"Okay, come on. I want to get out of the apartment," Beth says, hefting the carrier. "Quick, before Alex gets home and says it's too germy out there for a newborn."

"But isn't it?" Kate asks, hesitant even though she's the one who agreed to accompany her sister on her illicit expedition.

Beth pushes her out the door. "Prevailing thought now is that it exposes them to good germs as well as bad. Most of the women in my mommy group are taking their kids all over."

"Hm, okay, then," Kate offers with a shrug. Mommy group? "But no coffee shops. Castle would kill me - no matter the prevailing thought."

"You mean you can't resist?" Beth laughs. "Don't worry. It's not a coffee shop. It's an art gallery."

"Oh," Kate murmurs, delight stretching her lips. "That sounds wonderful."

Beth is already locking up the door, patting down the baby's bag she carries over one shoulder, glancing around. "I think I've got everything."

"You think?" Kate arches an eyebrow.

"Huh, good point. Quiz me."

"Diapers?"

"Check," she murmurs, opening a pocket anyway. "Right, yes. Diapers are in here."

"Um... blanket?"

"Why a blanket?" Beth asks, her face lifting, skin pale against the dark curls of her hair. She looks like she needs desperately to get out more. "She's wrapped up pretty good."

"In case it's cold in the gallery? In case... I don't know. I don't have one of these yet. Why am _I _supposed to be responsible?"

Beth laughs and shakes her head; the baby stirs in the carrier as if climbing up from sleep. "What do you mean _why_? You're always responsible, big sister."

"Shut up," she sighs. Sansa is making little mewling noises from the carrier, struggling as she wakes. "What about if you have to breast feed her while we're out? Blanket might be good to have."

"Okay, fine," Beth grumbles. "Back inside for a blanket."

"Do you have a pacifier?" Kate asks then. "Cause she's waking up and she'll-"

"All right," Beth grunts, unlocking the apartment door and heading back inside. "You've proven your worth. Pacifier too. Darn it. I thought I was so organized."

Beth sets the carrier down on the floor just inside the door and goes back towards the extra bedroom, mumbling things to herself as she goes.

Kate should help gather whatever Beth has forgotten, but instead she lays her hand over her own stomach and rubs at the spot where Bran likes to camp out. She gets a shift and a nudge in response, smiles to herself as she sinks slowly to her knees before his cousin.

Sansa's eyes are open and she blinks slowly; her face cracks into a wide yawn.

"Oh, hey, sweetheart. You waking up?"

Sansa unfurls a little hand, fingers tiny and those nails glowing pink in the light. Under her skin, Kate feels the boy making himself some room, settling again, and she presses her palm flat to the spot, struggling to catch her breath.

And not just because he likes to sit on her diaphragm, not just because her lungs are compressed by the baby taking up all the space, but because she realizes now.

What she's done.

She's called him Bran.

She _is calling_ him Bran.

* * *

They were supposed to go to dinner tonight, all four of them, to enjoy some grown-up time in a fancy restaurant of Castle's choosing while Alexis watched Sansa. But then Alexis got sick and Kate's dad was out of town and Alex flat out refused to leave his daughter with a complete stranger, so now they're here instead. Sipping wine in Kate's old living room as they wait for the delivery guy.

Well, Castle and Alex are sipping wine. Kate is nursing a non-alcoholic cocktail of Beth's fabrication that, she has to admit, tastes a lot better than she expected.

Her sister just disappeared into the bedroom to check on the baby, and although part of Kate's itching to go after Beth, run her own fingers across the soft curve of Sansa's cheek, she's also aware that when it's her own baby - her _son_ - she's going to want space, time of her own with him. With Bran.

She strokes her left hand over her belly, the old anticipation tugging at her heart and making her breath hitch, so when Castle calls her name it doesn't register immediately.

"Kate?"

She jerks her head up to look at him, vaguely guilty that he's caught her thinking of their baby boy as Bran - the one thing she keeps telling him not to do. "Yeah?"

"Alex here," he gestures at his former mentee who's smiling in a too-innocent way, "is suggesting - completely of his own accord, might I add - that we turn this little gathering into a _Game of Thrones_ night, and I said it was a brilliant idea. I mean, we're here, the DVDs are here, the flat screen is here-"

"What's this?" Beth asks, pulling the door shut after her and walking back to them with her usual grace. "Are you boys ganging up on my big sister?" Her eyes dance merrily across Kate's form and a laugh bubbles out of her. "And when I say 'big'-"

"You mean it in every sense of the word, yes," Kate cuts her off with a roll of her eyes. "You know, Bethie, the same joke _can_ get a little old after the sixth or seventh time."

"I still think it's kinda funny," Castle pipes up, but he hastily wipes away his smile when Kate narrows her eyes at him.

"You're supposed to be on my side," she says, only it's hard to maintain a stern face when Beth is hugging her from behind, both arms wrapped above her round belly and that sharp little chin of hers digging into Kate's shoulder.

"I'm always on your side, Katie," she sighs happily. "Even when I tease. Especially when I tease."

Kate lets out a breath that's too shaky - stupid hormones - and Beth seems to sense the shift in her mood, because she steps away and smoothly changes the subject. "So, did I hear you guys right? Plotting a _Game of Thrones_ night the moment I leave the room, huh?"

Alex's face is comical. He's clearly torn between his sworn allegiance to Beth and his desire not to lose face in front of Castle; his mouth opens and closes a few times, but no sound ever comes out. In the end Beth tilts her head and smiles. "I don't mind," she says.

"You don't?" Three voices chorus in surprise.

Beth's smile widens - of course, she always likes being the center of attention, likes to be unexpected. "Yeah, why not? I mean, I agreed to name my daughter Sansa; I might as well watch the whole stupid show, right? Cause people are bound to ask about it sooner or later."

Castle recovers quickest. "Exactly," he says, holding up a hand to Beth like she's seen the light. "I couldn't agree more, Beth. I think that really is the way to go, you know, just - prepare yourself for the questions people might ask, or might not ask, you never know, I mean, sometimes people's minds work in really weird ways. Like that woman who came to my _Deadly Storm_ book signing in Chicago, she-" At this point Castle finally sees Alex's subtle yet determined head shake and stops in the middle of his rambling. "Right, anyway. Watching the show will be good for everyone, especially since we're also considering-"

"Castle," Kate hisses sharply in warning, but it's too late: the damage is done. It's out.

Beth has perked up, her eyes full of that lively curiosity that is part of her charm but also something of a curse, and she turns to her sister with an eyebrow raised. "Considering what?"

Damn. Kate gives Castle a look, but his repentant face isn't going to help her now.

"Considering what, Katie?" Beth is glancing between Rick and her sister speculatively. "Have you guys finally come up with a name? Because you promised you would _tell_ me-"

"Oh, like you told me about Sansa?" Kate fights back. "The last thing I knew, she was supposed to be called Lily. And then we showed up here and-"

"Well, we had a change of heart," Beth says with a little shrug, smiling. "She just didn't feel like a Lily to either of us. And don't think I don't know what you're doing here, Kate Beckett. I know all your tricks, remember? Trying to shift the focus to me. As if I wouldn't notice."

Kate suppresses a groan. "All I'm saying is, people change their minds all the time. Like you guys did. So even if we had a vague idea for a name-"

"Not that vague," Castle objects. Kate slowly, slowly turns her head to him. He squirms a little, gestures zipping his mouth shut.

"All right," Beth says eagerly. "Let's hear that not-so-vague idea then."

Great. Just - great.

Kate is still trying to find a way out of this that doesn't involve saying _Bran_ out loud when Castle - who must be testing her limits tonight, trying to see how long she can refrain from _actually killing him_ - speaks again. "We just thought you guys did such a good job with that name, and it could be fun to kind of make it into a theme..."

"Castle," Kate moans, closing her eyes, but of course Beth and Alex have figured it out by now.

"Seriously?"

"You wanna pick something from _Game of Thrones_ too?"

"No, I don't," she starts hotly but the doorbell saves Kate from having to explain something she can't really explain. But even as Alex heads for the door, Beth gives her sister a look that says _We're not done talking about this_, and Beckett has to push her hands deep in her pockets to keep from throttling Castle.

This is not how she imagined the night would go.

* * *

He stares at the sharp line of her profile, her eye so dark in the yellow city lights, and he wishes she would look at him.

A rather silly wish, since she's driving. And yet.

"I'm sorry," he says, quieter than he intended. He doesn't bother repeating it though; he knows she's heard him. "I just... You know me. I get excited."

She puts on the blinker and veers right, all smooth and controlled, her attention on the road. Castle presses his mouth together to keep more words from tumbling out. He can feel it knotting his chest, the need to explain, make sure, maybe apologize again, but it's not fair to have this conversation if she can't fully be a part of it.

They're almost home, anyway.

So he waits a little longer, the words he's holding back swirling madly in his brain, and it's lucky that Kate turns to him the second they're parked safely in their spot. Saves him from saying a bunch of really stupid things.

"I'm not mad at you, Castle." Her voice has that throaty quality that means she's really tired; he should probably insist on getting out of the car, take her up to the loft where she can rest.

"But you were mad."

Her eyes flicker shut for a second, and she makes a little grunt. Disagreement, he thinks. "No, I... I wanted to keep Bran to myself for a bit longer. I like being sure. Before I share anything with the world."

He shifts in his seat, facing her as much as he can. "Beth and Alex are not the world. And it doesn't mean we can't still change our minds, Beckett. If you don't want our baby to be called Bran, then he won't. It makes no difference what we told your sister."

She opens her eyes again, a slow sweep of her lashes, a ghost of a smile on her mouth. "To me it does. But that's okay. I'm getting pretty attached to Bran anyway."

Rick's mouth was already open to contradict her, but the way she says those words - light and tender and so very honest - wipes his mind blank. He stares at her for a few beats before he finally remembers how to form words. "You are?"

Her smile blooms and touches her eyes. "Yeah, I'm afraid so."

"Kate." Maybe he meant to say something else, but it got lost on the way to his brain; only her name remains.

She reaches out for his hand and laces their fingers, strokes her thumb over his. She's watching him with her eyes so soft, all her face soft, and his heart pounds his ribs hard enough that he's scared it'll break open.

"Our son," she murmurs, and she just _can't_ say stuff like that. Not if she wants him to stay alive long enough to hold their baby.

"We should get out of the car," he says inanely. "Get you into bed."

"We should." But she doesn't move, and he doesn't either.

* * *

"I feel like we should get him a dog."

"I feel like we should get _him_ first before we go adding someone else to this household," Kate retorts. She always does nix his first and best ideas. Shoots him down, just like that, easy as pie.

Castle sighs and pushes his thumbs deeper into her lower back, makes Kate moan. At least there's that. Her defensive mechanism has been to say _no_ to every suggestion of his, but Castle can still make her moan.

Even if it's just with a massage.

"Out a little more," she mumbles, head bowed forward.

He works his thumbs away from her spine, digging into the meat of her muscle, and he feels that sharp flare of contraction that always makes them both jump. Kate laughs, a little breathless, and his own heart clenches and stutters.

"Was that-?"

"Yeah," she answers, turning her head over her shoulder to look at him. They're in bed and surrounded by all her pillows - though she mostly just doesn't sleep at this point - and it's late enough that he wonders.

"It's not like the real thing though, right?"

"I don't think so. He always gets a little..."

"What do you mean, you don't think so?"

"Castle, you and I both know I've had muscles spasms like that for the last month. So no, I'm not going into labor. I don't think."

"I wish you would."

"You and me both," she grumbles. "He's already got your big head; he doesn't need any more weight on him."

"He's not exactly overdue."

"A week. I've got a week to my due date. We could get this thing started." Her hand slides along his calf where his legs bracket her hips; he laughs and digs his thumbs deeper into her back. "Oof. Right there."

"That's pretty much the closest you're getting to sex, Beckett. So make it last."

"If I go right up to my due date though?" she murmurs. Her eyebrows lift as she regards him, still that over the shoulder look, still so gorgeous despite how tired she is.

"Fine," he caves. "The day of - fine. Sex all you like."

"Seriously never thought you'd be _denying_ me."

"Seriously never thought you'd be _begging_ me."

"Shut up."

He grins and works his thumbs in circles up the sides of her spine, making sure to spend extra time on the knots at her shoulder blades. She groans and puts her knees up, bows her forehead to her thigh.

"You okay?"

"Don't stop."

"Never."

"Feels good," she whispers. Her breath comes out in little pants, like she can't quite get it all, and that might be true. Baby squashing all her organs. He winces and digs his thumbs harder in recompense, feels he owes her a lot more than an hour's back rub every night.

With his fingers spread at her ribs, he feels it again. The ripple of her muscles contracting.

She groans and bows deeper. "I so want this kid out of me."

He laughs but she swats at him with her hand as if to say it's not funny. "I bet you do," he concedes. "You get any sleep last night?"

"Mm, maybe a couple hours." She turns to lay her cheek against her propped knee, a feat, really, because she looks like she'll never contort herself over her belly. "Is Alexis coming?"

"Yeah. She'll be here in two days."

Her eyes open, cheek scrunched up, hair falling around her face. "I don't feel ready," she whispers.

"What?"

"Are you ready for this? I want him out but I don't - I'm not prepared. Right now it's just us, the two of us, and I've got it under control. I don't know what to do when he's - I don't know how I'm going to do it."

Castle lays his hand flat to her back. "We'll be ready because we'll have to be. We'll have a day or so at the hospital to ease our way into it, and then we'll take him home and that's it."

"I'm not ready."

"We'll make it," he promises. "I made it with Alexis and that was - a good deal of it anyway - mostly alone."

"You're confident because you've done it before, but I've-"

"No. I'm confident because I've got you. And you've got me." He slides his hand up her back and curls his fingers over her shoulder. She comes into his tugging for an embrace, awkward around the baby, but her grip doesn't feel anything other than thoughtful. "You're not panicking, are you?" he murmurs.

"No." She nudges a kiss to his shoulder and pulls back. "I just like to know. To plan ahead and have nothing left to chance."

"Is that why you've been interrogating your sister?" he laughs.

"Yes." She narrows her eyes at him. "Don't judge me. You know what to expect. I'm doing my research and making plans."

"Nesting," he murmurs.

"Shut up."

"Isn't that a sign that it's almost time?"

She opens her mouth to retort, but instead she untangles her legs from his and shoves him out of her way. "I have to pee. Move."

When he laughs, she growls at him, not even breaking her stride as she heads for the bathroom. Even 37 weeks into pregnancy, Beckett has more grace than to trip over her own feet or stumble as she leaves the bed. He likes to watch her go, the curves he knows and the ones he doesn't, the peek of the baby when she turns to the side.

She calls out to him right as she slams the door on his watching. "I really want this kid out of me, Castle."

"Yeah, one more week," he laughs to himself.

Castle flops back in bed and stares up at the ceiling.

_Is _he ready?

* * *

The murder board is resolutely silent. She's been staring at it for the last half hour and she's got nothing, not even a hint, a whisper of an idea. The timeline doesn't make sense; the elements on the board won't fit together and Kate sits back in her chair, distractedly rubbing a hand over the spot where Bran likes to kick.

"So the boyfriend's mom confirmed her son was at her place at the time of the murder," she says to herself. "Do we have anyone else backing up her story? She wouldn't be the first mother to lie so her son stays out of jail."

She purses her mouth as she waits for an answer, lets her eyes drift back to the picture of the boyfriend. Brown curly hair and round blue eyes, not exactly the face of a killer - but if there's something Beckett's learned in all those years at the 12th, it's that murderers often don't look the part.

"Well?" she says, finally wrenching her attention from the murder board so she can give Ryan an impatient look. He's standing at his desk, watching her uneasily; Esposito's right next to him with his arms crossed on his chest, disapproval etched across his face.

Kate sighs. "Oh come on, guys. Work with me here."

Javier's eyebrow arches. "You're not even supposed to be here," he says sternly. "You're on leave. You should be home waiting for that baby to come out."

"Yeah, I mean, it's great to see you and all, Beckett - nice of you to bring lunch - but Castle's going to kill us if he finds out we've let you work in this condition."

She narrows her eyes at them. "This _condition_? I'm having a baby, Ryan, I'm not dying of cancer. But maybe I should call Jenny and let her know what you think of pregnant-"

"Whoa, whoa, no need for that," he cuts her off, holding up a hand. "Look, we're just trying to be good friends here. Did you even tell Castle you were stopping by?"

She sets her jaw. "I told him I was buying you guys lunch, not that it's any of your business. Castle's not my keeper, okay? I don't have to update him every five minutes."

Esposito gives her one of those scolding, big brother looks that she hates (they usually mean he's right about something). "You're having the man's baby, Kate. I think the least you can do is let him know where you're at."

She blows a long breath through her nose, closes her eyes for a second. The guilt she's been suppressing surges up in her chest. "Listen, I just... I need a break. Castle's been hovering like crazy the past couple days, and I know he means well, I know he's just impatient for the baby to get here, but I need a moment to myself to make sure I don't accidentally throttle him. Can you give me that?"

She glances at them. Ryan looks embarrassed, Javier reluctant, but neither of them say no, and it's not like he and Ryan are going to bodily drag her out of the station either. They could call Castle, true. But she doesn't think they will.

"Fine," Esposito says. "Gates will be here in an hour anyway, and she'll kick your pregnant ass out of here."

Beckett chuckles, more relief than amusement, and leans back in her chair. "An hour's all I need."

But she doesn't even last that long. They're in the middle of discussing the victim's schedule the week before he died (subdural hemorrhage after a heavy blow to the head) when a contraction suddenly steals Beckett's breath. She bows her head, knitting her brow as she breathes through the discomfort; it's longer than usual, and when she finally looks up and sees Espo and Ryan's twin expressions of panic, she knows she's not gonna be the one to solve this case.

"Beckett, was that-"

"Are you-"

She shakes her head, but in the few seconds it takes her to catch her breath Ryan's already pulled out his phone and Esposito has squatted down next to her, asking with his brow knitted, "How d'you feel? Does it hurt?"

"I'm fine," she huffs, massaging the sensitive spot down her abdomen. She's had exactly two contractions over the past half-hour; she's got plenty of time yet. Ryan's talking to Castle on the phone though, words like _Beckett _and _labor_ and _get yourself over here_, and she finds suddenly that she doesn't mind.

She's kinda looking forward to having his big, solid hand to crush with her own.

* * *

He could watch her all day for the rest of his life and it would never lose its magic.

Watch them.

Kate and his son.

She's in love with the boy, and it's so obvious that it aches. For a hundred different reasons - because he did that for her, helped make that, because Alexis's mother never quite looked at her that way, because he must look even more ridiculous and enchanted if it's that obvious in Beckett.

"How's he doing?" Castle calls quietly from the doorway.

Kate lifts her head from her quiet inspection of their newborn's knees, and her face breaks wide open for him. Sunlight pours from her love and warms him, draws through the room to hover at her bedside.

"He's asleep. I just fed him. Look at his knees, Castle."

Kate has flipped aside the blanket and those thin, coltish legs are on display, the diaper practically swallowing him. He's so small, so very small, and Castle can't help feeling like nothing ought to ever be so defenseless and tiny.

"See?" she murmurs. She holds the back of the boy's entire calf with two fingers and swipes her thumb over the round, knobby knee. It's a miracle of engineering, something knitted together inside her for these last nine months and now here he is, a miniature person.

"What am I seeing?" he says. He reaches out and cups her hand, dwarfing the baby's leg and swallowing Kate's fingers, and her breath catches. She turns her face into his neck and he feels tears at his skin, the hard swallow of her throat as she gulps it down.

He curls in around her, thinks he probably should have gotten more sleep last night if this is how their days are going to go. But he sacked out on the plastic couch in here with her and every time she shifted in her sleep, he woke.

In wonder.

It was a good night, but he's about as emotional as she is, and the tears she pushes into his neck make him feel weepy.

"He's so small," Kate mumbles. Her kiss nudges him away and he straightens up, ignoring the twinges in his back from hunching over for so long. "He's so very small and beautiful and I can't believe he's here."

"He really is beautiful," Castle admits, running a shaky hand over his son's soft dark hair. "I'm not just saying that because he's ours. I mean. Really. He's stunning."

Kate laughs, a kind of breathless, tearful thing, and she folds the blanket around the boy's legs, curling close. "When do we get out of here?"

"In a couple hours. Finished signing all the paperwork; we're just waiting on the social worker."

"Social worker?"

"Yeah, exit stuff. She supposedly has a care plan and... I don't know. It kinda made me dizzy when the nurse started talking about wound care. I... I'm at a loss."

Kate winces and shifts on the bed. "Yeah, it's fine. A couple stitches. Not supposed to go up the stairs."

"Stitches? How did I miss that?"

She finally lifts her eyes from the baby and gives him a shared smile, the tenderness for their son leaking out into a tenderness for him that he doesn't think she's ever shown him before.

"He's got a big head. And you were in love with your son over there, Castle. It's all good."

His throat closes up and he glances back down at the baby asleep in her arms, the perfect shape of his eyes, the pink spots on his cheeks, the one little hand tucked under his chin. He leans down and puts his nose to the top of the boy's head, inhales the scent of milk and new skin and warm sleep.

He lifts again and can't help kissing her, giving over his joy into the open surprise of her mouth, the moan and her tongue, the grip of her hand at his neck. His back pulses in warning but he stays bent over, trying to make it gentler on her, trying to soften his response, but she won't let him.

When he has to breathe, when he _has_ to stand up straight or else be permanently hunched, he catches the bloom of heat on her face and the tangled up storm of love in her eyes. Her fingers release him and drag slowly down his chest to hook in the pocket of his jeans.

"Thanks," she husks. "Needed that little... ego boost."

"You're beautiful," he says immediately. "Don't you even... you're beautiful. I don't have words for what it does to me."

She holds his gaze and then drops her eyes to the baby again, her sigh content, falling in love, a little wistful. "This is beautiful. I know." She tilts her chin up and her hand in his pocket tugs, makes him come closer. "But I'm glad you're still all hot and bothered too."

He laughs, wasn't expecting that, and dips his head in for another kiss, lets himself leave all the heat and want and _complaint_ in it. Because hot and bothered is going to be a permanent state of being for... oh, the next few years.

"Wait until we're both riding on months of no sleep and endless diaper changes and continuous feedings," he murmurs, pitching his voice so that it sounds sexier than it is. "Just wait, Beckett. You'll be pushing me away with a growl and huffing about my lack of sensitivity in no time."

"How romantic," she chuckles. Her eyes track his and even though she's amused, there's a dark sincerity there that makes him pause. "I can't wait."

"Me either."

* * *

Kate hears Beth's voice first, the quick, excited sound of her chatter traveling down the hallway and carrying into the open room, then her footsteps growing closer. She sits up straighter and adjusts Bran in her arms, can't help running a finger along the small, round face. He's asleep; she fed him about an hour ago, so he'll probably be out for a bit longer. Her sleeping, sweet, perfect baby.

When she looks up Beth is standing in the door, her mouth parted, her eyes dark with emotion. "Hey," Kate says, beaming as everything surges up inside her, overflows. "Come look at him, Bethie."

Beth quietly moves closer; Kate might mistake it for shyness if she didn't know her sister so well, didn't know the only time Beth goes silent is when the joy is just - too much.

"Oh, Katie," she murmurs, pausing at the side of the bed. "He's so beautiful."

"I know."

Beth's fingers find Kate's, squeeze tight, and there's a breathless, shared moment between them where they don't speak, just stare at the tiny human being in Kate's arms, the long lashes and the little nose.

It almost feels like Johanna's in the room with them.

Then Castle and Alex come in, three-month-old Sansa in a sling on her daddy's chest, and the spell is broken, the moment gone. Only the warm feeling lingers in Kate's chest, making her feel like anything's possible.

"You wanna hold him?" she asks her sister. Beth's face flushes with pleasure, her eyes so eager - of course - and Kate carefully leans in and gives over her sleeping son. Her chest is tight; it's harder than she thought, sharing him with someone other than Castle. But Beth is an expert at babies by now. She knows to be gentle, to hold Bran's head, and the look in her eyes as she cranes her neck to kiss her nephew's downy hair is so very worth it.

"Hello, baby," she says, her voice low and rich. "Hello. I'm your Aunt Beth, and I'm so, so happy to finally meet you."

Kate is blinking back tears. Stupid hormones.

"So what's his name?" Beth asks suddenly, looking up at Kate. "You didn't say."

"Oh." Kate glances at Castle, quirks a smile. "Bran. His name's Bran." It rolls off her tongue, smooth and _right_, and any last lingering doubt she might've had just vanishes.

Alex lets out a startled laugh. "So you guys really did it, huh? I didn't think you would. Awesome." Sansa shifts in the sling, probably roused by all the voices, and she turns her head to her mother; Beth comes closer and holds Bran so Sansa can see him.

"Who's this, sweetheart? Do you know who it is? It's your cousin. Your cousin Bran. He's sleeping right now, so we have to be quiet, but can you see how beautiful he is? And when he's grown up a little, you'll be able to play with him. Fun, huh, princess?"

Sansa is gnawing at her tiny fist as she listens to her mother, entranced, her eyes wide. She's got Alex's eyes, that clear, lovely shade of blue-green, and her fingers and cheeks have the round chubbiness of babies.

Looking at them all together, at the family they've made, Kate feels the fierce clutch of love at her heart. It's taken so much to get here - Jim's drinking and Beth's running away, Kate falling deeper and deeper into the dark pit of her mother's case - and it feels like somewhat of a miracle that this is actually happening. Kate's son and Beth's daughter meeting for the first time.

"Dad called me ten minutes ago," Beth says, as if she can read Kate's mind. "Said he was on his way."

"Good."

"Hey guys," Alexis says brightly as she walks into the room, carrying a small tray. "So I got your milkshake, Dad - oh, hi, Princess," she coos when she sees Sansa. The little girl grins back at Alexis and pounds her hand on her father's shoulder. "They didn't have strawberry though, so I got vanilla instead. That okay?"

Castle grumbles, but he looks too happy to care. Bran is handed back to Kate, who tries her best not to look too eager but can't help a sigh of relief once her son is safely nestled back into her arms. No wonder, she thinks absentmindedly as she kisses the soft round cheek, breathes in the wonderful smell. No wonder Castle was so upset when Alexis moved out.

Kate's only had Bran for ten hours, and already she never wants to let him go.

* * *

Castle will never get a moment's sleep again.

Never.

He doesn't remember it being like this with Alexis, but surely it was. Surely. Because he has a lot of memories of waking up to get his daughter and how sweet it was to hold her in the darkness, carry her in to her mother, and then later, the joy of bottle feeding her formula all alone, just the two of them.

This is more like... warfare. Or some special kind of torture.

And Bran doesn't even _cry_. He's getting sleep, no problem. It's the stupid monitor.

"Can't we just turn it off?" he whispers. He and Kate stand over the bassinet and watch Bran's eyelashes flutter as he drifts down through sleep. "It doesn't _have_ to be on."

"Castle, I wouldn't be able to sleep if it was off. Even less than we're getting now."

"What? Why?"

"I'd be awake all night worried that _this_ would be the night he actually did stop breathing and we lost him."

"God, that's awful," he rasps, staring at his son. "I hate the person who invented these monitors."

Someone - he can't remember who - bought them the SIDS-alert monitor which keeps tabs on the baby's breathing during sleep. Turns out, the thing is really sensitive, and also? Babies apparently get a little off-kilter in their rhythms at night anyway.

So the monitor by their bed goes off _all night long_.

"It's ironic, isn't it?" he muses. "This kid sleeps through the night early, earlier than I remember Alexis doing, and we can't even enjoy it."

"I hate this monitor," Kate moans, turning to him and punching his arm. "I hate it. I want to murder whoever gave it to us. Who gave us this damn thing?"

"Ow, don't beat _me_ up. I think it was Lanie. It sounds like a Lanie kind of gift, right? The medical examiner definitely would give us a monitor to stave off death. She's morbid like that."

"I just want some sleep," Kate mutters, rubbing both hands over her eyes. Bran makes a sound in his sleep, one of those slurpy, dreaming of breastmilk noises, and Castle watches his easy, peaceful slumber.

"I'm jealous of him," Castle mumbles, staring down. "I'm jealous of him and not because of the breast stuff. I'm jealous that he gets so much _sleep_."

Kate slaps his shoulder again and he winces, rubbing, but it doesn't even hurt. He's numb with sleeplessness - too numb to even feel that.

"Guys?"

Kate spins around first - her reaction time is better than his even on as little sleep as they're getting - and Castle follows more slowly, but his daughter is still standing there, eyebrow raised, when he finally looks.

"Okay, enough," Alexis sighs. "I'm taking the monitor tonight and you two are going to sleep. I'll come check on him every time it goes off."

"What? No, Alexis-"

"Yes," Kate interrupts, grabbing a fistful of his sleep shirt and yanking him hard. He stumbles into Kate and she glares up at him, eyes bright and livid. "You will say _thank you_ and then you and I will go to bed. And get a full eight hours."

Alexis laughs softly in the darkness of Bran's room, and Castle gets released, swaying as he does. "Uh. Thanks and... I'm going to bed. Wait, do you have clean sheets, Alexis?"

"Yeah, Kate made up the bed for me earlier. Don't worry about it. I'm gonna do some studying anyway - staying up late and cramming for finals."

"Oh," he says stupidly. "Right. People do that. On purpose. Staying awake. Right."

Alexis laughs again and below them, Bran stirs in his sleep, little mouth opening. Kate nudges him away and he goes, shifting towards the doorway, passing his daughter. He drops a kiss to the top of her head, half-hugging her around the shoulders.

"Thank you, really," Kate says to her, a hand on Alexis's arm. "If he needs me-"

"I'll come get you. I won't hesitate. We'll be fine."

"Let me go get you the monitor," Castle says, hurrying down the hallway now, already day dreaming about dreaming again, his feet clumsy on the steps.

Eight hours. Wow. He's going to get eight hours of sleep tonight.

* * *

Alexis frowns and rubs a hand over her eye; she's usually so organized, but her desk is a mess right now. She should have started studying earlier, only there was so much to do these past few weeks, group meetings, presentations, essays. And parties.

End of semester parties. Birthday parties. Dress up parties with the stupidest themes (_come as an animal starting with the same letter as your name_). Her father suggested aardvark.

Beth keeps telling Alexis that fun is important, that if she'd gone to college herself she would've said yes to every single invitation, and so Alexis... Well, she _has_ been having fun. She's still an A+ student - old habits die hard - but lately she hasn't paid as much attention in class. Turns out it's harder to focus on her teacher's voice when she's running on two hours' sleep.

Where are her Human Evolution notes? Well, not hers, technically - the notes she borrowed from Emily, a girl who takes Human Evo with her. Alexis reaches for the nearest pile, is fingering through the pages when the baby monitor on her bed goes off yet again.

Too tired to flinch, she yawns and cuts off the alarm, gets to her feet. Bran's room is right next to hers; it used to be the guest room, but her dad and Kate have spent the last few months redecorating. It's beautiful now, a soft harmony of deep grey and pale yellow that gets to Alexis's heart every time she sees it. Although, of course, right now it's shrouded in darkness. Only the nightlight shines, makes little splashes of star-shaped white over the ceiling.

Alexis steps lightly so the floor won't creak, leans over Bran's crib. She expected to find him sleeping peacefully - like she did the three times before - but in the almost-dark her brother's eyes are open wide, staring back at her.

Such deep eyes, brown and green entangled. His mother's eyes.

"Hey, baby brother," Alexis murmurs, reaching down a hand to stroke along the round cheek. "Why're you awake? You hungry? You want me to go get your mom?"

Bran doesn't look hungry; in fact, he doesn't look upset at all. His small hand closes over Alexis's finger and he blinks, yawns wide.

Aw, what a cutie.

"Did you have a bad dream?" she asks, her heart so tender. "That why you woke up?" Do babies even have bad dreams? Huh. She's not sure.

Her baby brother makes a little sound almost like agreement. Alexis smiles and then feels the strain in her back, straightens up. There's a rocking chair near the window; she pulls it close and sits down, eye level with Bran now. She slides a hand into the crib - just enough space between the bars - and rests it on the baby's tummy, feeling it rise and fall with each breath.

"I can't sing you a song," she whispers apologetically, remembering Kate's low, smoky lullaby from the night before. "But I can tell you a story, if you'd like. Like my dad used to tell me." _Our _dad. She's not quite used to the thought yet.

Bran is silent; Alexis takes this as permission to continue.

"Once upon a time, there were two little girls. Sisters. They were good friends; sometimes they even got into trouble together. But then one day-" she hesitates on her word choice. "One day, their mother was taken away from them, couldn't come back. The sisters were really sad, and the younger one decided to leave the country for a while. The older sister was hurt by this, but she hid it really well, because she was tough. She went and became a cop so she could give people answers and catch the - bad guys - who had taken her mother away. After a while, she met a man, a writer, who was a little childish on the outside, but a really, really good man on the inside. And this man asked if he could help her catch bad guys. He said he wanted to use her as an inspiration for his novel, but everybody knew he was secretly in love with her and just wanted a reason to be near her."

Bran's eyes are closed, his lashes casting long shadows over his cheeks. Alexis strokes her thumb over his pajamas, goes on.

"After they'd been working together for a while, the woman's sister came back to the city. They'd missed each other very much, and so the cop forgave her little sister for leaving. They became the best of friends again. And the cop married the writer, and they had you."

The baby's breathing is deep, even, and Alexis slowly takes her hand back. But she rests her forehead against the wooden bars, closes her eyes for a moment; she realizes she didn't even put herself in the story.

"You're very lucky," she breathes. "You have the best daddy in the whole world, and your mother is fierce and kind and she would do anything for you, anything at all. You have a whole family who loves you, and you have me, little brother. You'll always have me."

She presses her lips together and remembers that day in first grade when she'd seen her friend Angela with her little sister, the sharp pang of envy as she had watched Angela help three-year-old Emma put on her coat. Alexis had gone home that day and asked her father, "_Daddy, can I have one too?"_ and he had looked at her very seriously, explained that it was just going to be the two of them for a while, their own special world, and wasn't that awesome?

She hadn't asked again - truly, her father was so good at making up games and building forts that she didn't really feel like an only child - and later she'd realized how much it had to have hurt him at the time, not being able to give his little girl what she wanted.

But he had. He had been everything she needed then, and now - now - it's not just the two of them anymore. It's a whole family, her dad and Alexis and Kate and Bran, Beth and Alex and Sansa, Martha and Jim, and he did that. Her dad built that for him and Alexis, a world bigger than the two of them, fuller and more complex, but filled with the same bright, loud, clamoring love.

She takes a slow breath, wipes her hand over her cheek. "Guess I'm pretty lucky too," she whispers to her sleeping brother. It's not just his story; it's hers too.

* * *

"You've got this," Kate murmurs to him in the quiet of the loft.

Castle gives her the barest flicker of a smile, but his eyes are on their son, hands careful and wide against the small boy. Kate stands at his hip and tries not to distract him.

Bran's first bath at home. The nurse and the books all said to wait until the umbilical cord fell off before giving him an immersion bath, and now that it's time, Kate thinks she's less nervous than Castle.

"Haven't you done this before?" she says, chuckling softly as Castle hesitates.

"Yes. That's why I'm terrified. They get so _slippery_."

"You got this, Rick. Man up."

"I'm going to drop him."

"No, you're not. You have strong hands," she says, injecting a little seduction into her voice. He grunts something back at her, but he carefully cradles their son's neck and head with one hand and lowers him into the plastic tub sitting on top of the bathroom counter.

"Oh, shoot," she mutters. "The camera. Where's my phone?"

"You lost your phone again?" he exclaims. "Beckett, this is not the time to go looking."

"Just let me-"

"No. You're the one with fast reflexes. You'll catch him before he drowns. Stay."

"You're panicking for no reason," she says back. "You look as freaked out as when I got shot. Bran will be fine - even if he does go under for a second."

"Kate," he warns. "Not funny."

But she's already hurrying out of the bathroom to find her phone, searching madly through the bed covers when she doesn't see it in immediate view. She finds it on the floor, red battery warning at the top.

"I need yours," she calls back.

"Kate, this isn't funny. Get in here."

"Where's your phone? Mine is going to die."

"In my _pocket_," he says with exasperation.

Kate laughs and comes back inside the bathroom to find her husband hunched over the plastic newborn tub, not having moved an inch since she left. Their son, on the other hand, looks to be enjoying the water, feet and arms kicking, startling violently whenever the drops of water splash his face. Mouth wide in disbelief or happiness - almost a smile - the strange little noises that might be laughter.

"Kate," Rick urges.

She finally looks at him, broken from the spell of her son. "In your pocket, huh? That'll be fun."

"Don't tease," he complains. But there's an added element of desperation to his voice that she heeds, dropping her amusement to lay a hand on his back in solidarity.

"I'll get a quick picture - his first bath, and then I'll bathe him while you hold him. Four hands. He can't possibly drown."

"Don't jinx us," he says darkly.

Kate lifts on her toes and kisses his rough cheek, the stubble from the day where he hasn't had the time to shave. He feels warm and tired in every line of his body, so she slips her fingers down into his back pocket to grab his phone, trying to hurry.

He grunts when she can't help sliding against his rear, but she fishes out his phone and calls up the camera from the lock screen. "See? Really quickly. Hey, Bran, baby. Look at me."

Bran's eyes startle up to hers, still not entirely able to focus at such a distance. She takes a few photos in a row, getting his excited jerky movements and the blur of his eyes squeezing shut.

"Oh, blackmail material, little boy," she coos at him, laughing when his foot splashes her. "Yeah, I deserved that. You're right."

"Kate."

"One more. A few more. Bran," she calls out, getting his attention again. She takes as many as she can possibly get away with, and then she puts Castle's phone up, leaving it on the side of the tub. "Your phone updates to the computer automatically, right?"

"Yeah, it'll back up those. Come on. Start the bath. I'm seriously not-"

"You're doing just fine."

"He's so _active._ I swear Alexis wasn't this squirmy. Every time his head jerks, I feel like he's going to tumble right out of my hands."

That seems like an exaggeration, since the width of Castle's palm practically dwarfs their baby boy's head. Well, almost.

Kate moves in at her husband's side, brushing her fingers over his back in encouragement as she gathers the soft washcloth. She dips it in the warm, lavender scented water and then lifts the cloth over Bran's head, lets the drops roll down his skull.

Bran startles but kicks his feet, looks like he enjoys it. He gets a fist against her arm, beats again, so small and excited. So _very_ excited. She washes him quickly, in deference to Castle's barely restrained panic, getting in the folds at his elbows and knees and neck. Kate laughs at the way Bran gets so excited, and she draws a line of warm water down his belly, the boy squirming and making noises with his mouth - sucking or clicking, something.

"He does that when he wants to be fed," she says. "I think he's excited."

"Okay, okay," Castle grunts. "I admit - this is cute. It's still scaring the crap out of me, but he's cute."

Kate grins up at him for that, but their eyes lock in a second's unguarded moment and she's caught by it, this shared connection, the _three_ of them together.

"Wow," she murmurs.

"Yeah," he scrapes out. And it goes on, continues, an awareness of their family and what they've created, how this little _person_ exists inside their world now, reshaping it, expanding it.

"I love you," she blurts out. Her eyes fall to their son, lift back to Castle, and she's not sure where to look first, last, who fills her heart more or richer but just so _good._

"I love you too." His eyes get misty, crinkle up with his smile. "So much, Kate."

She spends a silly amount of time just staring at him, absorbing it, the threeness of their little family, and then she shakes her head. "How about we get him dried off? You'd like that, Bran, huh? Get you into some warm pajamas."

In reply, Bran's little fists wave in the air at her, and she can see now pieces of his personality beginning to shape and surface, how over the next few months, they'll get smiles and sounds and then walking and words.

Words, talking back to them, stories and secrets and questions. Fingers in her hair and _I love you_ and the birds and the bees...

Santa for Christmas and cake for Bran's birthday and Father's Day cards that she'll help him make. Their whole future filled up with these celebrations of their love.

And this is where it all starts for them - with their son.


End file.
